It's Not Easy Being Green
by Ryan Phelan
Summary: The Chameleon ponders a career change in this three-part series. Final chapter is up!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Mighty Ducks is owned by Disney.  I recently realized that I haven't included the Saurians in any of my stories.  That's not right; after all, they're in almost every MD episode!  Hence my latest twisted tale…

It's Not Easy Being Green

By Ryan Phelan

Things were not going well for Siege and Wraith.  They had broken into a research facility to steal a rare meteor.  Minutes later the Ducks showed up, lasers blasting.  They soon had the two Saurians pinned down.  To make matters worse, their teleportation units malfunctioned, making escape impossible.

"I fear this is the end," Wraith moaned.

"If only The Chameleon was here," Siege cried.

"You called?"  A voice above them said.

Chameleon was standing in the rafters, decked out in battle gear and a large ray gun.  He jumped, sailing through the air as gracefully as a bird in flight.  He did several somersaults and landed on his feet in front of the Ducks.  All six quickly trained their weapons on him.  Chameleon fired off six rounds; The Ducks' guns popped out of their hands like magic.

"He's too much for us!"  Wildwing cried.  "Retreat!"

The Ducks ran away as fast as their legs could carry them.  Chameleon grabbed the meteor and walked over to his friends.

"Thanks, Chameleon, you saved our butts again!"  Siege gushed.

"We'd be nothing without you," Wraith said.  

"I know," Chameleon replied.  He fiddled with his teleporter.  "Okay, boys, I fixed the problem.  Let's get out of here."

The three Saurians touched a button on their wrists and disappeared in a flash of light, reappearing inside the Raptor.

"Chameleon!  Do you get it?"  Dragaunus asked.

"Do you really need to ask?"  Chameleon said, producing the meteor.

"You're right of course," Dragaunus replied.  "If only all of my henchmen were as dependable as you."  He glared at Siege and Wraith, who hung their heads.

"If there's nothing else, I shall retire to my quarters," Chameleon said. 

"No, you go ahead," Dragaunus said.  "Is there anything you need?"

"Well, I could use a snack."

"Siege!  Go to the kitchen and make Chameleon a snack!"  Dragaunus barked.  Siege scurried away.

"And a bubble bath."

"Wraith!  Prepare Chameleon's bath!"  Wraith hurried off.

"Thanks, Draggy," Chameleon said.  "Oh, and I don't mean to be a bother, but my clothes have been feeling a little stiff lately.  Add more fabric softener to the next load, okay?"  

"Sure thing, Chameleon," Dragaunus replied.  

Chameleon walked off towards his bedroom.  Suddenly red lights began to flash and a loud BEEPing sound filled the halls.  

"Oh, no," Chameleon cried.  "Not now!  NOT NOW!"

Chameleon sat bolt upright in bed; to his left the alarm clock continued to blare, the numbers 6:00 staring at him in bold red.  He groaned and hit the button to stop the annoying sound.  Noiselessly he slid out of bed and padded to the kitchen to make breakfast for the others.  There was no sense in complaining, even to himself; it only wasted precious seconds, and Chameleon was all too familiar with the punishment for being late with breakfast.

**********

Twenty minutes later Dragaunus's breakfast was cooked, the table was set, and the coffee was ready to pour.  The newspaper was neatly folded and placed to the left of the plate.  Chameleon morphed into a waiter as his boss entered the room.

"Good morning sir," Chameleon said with a snooty French accent.  "Our special today is Eggs Benedict, crispy bacon, succulent sausage links and a side of whole wheat toast with homemade strawberry jam, topped off with my special blend."  Chameleon poured a big, steaming cup of coffee.  

Dragaunus didn't reply; he just sat down and began to read the newspaper.  Chameleon waited anxiously while Dragaunus ate; he knew if the boss wasn't entirely pleased with his meal there'd be hell to pay.  Dragaunus was halfway through when Chameleon finally started to relax.  Then suddenly, as if the Gods themselves were waiting for just the right moment, Dragaunus let out an ear-shattering roar and overturned the table in a fit of rage; Chameleon cowered and covered his head in an attempt to shield himself from the egg and meat bits raining down on him.

"CHAMELEON!"  Dragaunus roared.

"I'm sorry, boss!"  Chameleon cried.  "I'm really, really, sorry for whatever it is I did!  It won't happen again!"

"YOU SHOULD BE SORRY!"  Dragaunus snarled.  "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS!!"

Dragaunus shoved the newspaper into The Chameleon's face.  When The Chameleon finally gathered the courage to open his eyes he read the headline, MIGHTY DUCKS SAVE THE DAY AGAIN!

"Oh, The Ducks," Chameleon sighed.  "They're the ones making you mad."

"MAD?  I AM FAR BEYOND MAD!"  Dragaunus yelled.  "WHY ARE THE DUCKS STILL AROUND TO MAKE HEADLINES?  WHY AM I NOT RULING THE WORLD?  IT SHOULD BE MY FACE IN THE NEWSPAPERS!  THE HEADLINE SHOULD READ 'DRAGAUNUS DECLARED RULER OF THE WORLD!'"

"Uh-huh," Chameleon said as he inched towards the door.  "I can see you have a lot of psychotic ranting to do.  So I'll just…"

Dragaunus's eyes glowed and smoke began to pour from his nostrils.  Chameleon knew when the boss got this angry, he would start firing at the nearest available target.  He ran out the door and down the hall as fast as he could; behind him he heard the sound of laser blasts tearing the room apart.  He didn't stop running until he was back in the kitchen, where he slumped against the counter and tried to catch his breath.  His break was short-lived; moments later Siege and Wraith entered the kitchen, and they were hungry.

"What's for breakfast, Chameleon?"  Siege growled.  "It better not be the usual slop."

"I predict a dismal start to a dismal day," Wraith muttered.

"Gentlemen, prepare to eat your words, along with my latest culinary masterpiece," Chameleon said as he spooned the eggs and meat onto their plates.  He stood and watched while they shoveled it into their mouths, barely pausing to chew.

"Well," Chameleon said, "is it fabulous, or merely great?"

"I'm eating it, ain't I??" Siege barked.

"Chameleon, don't you have laundry to do?"  Wraith asked between bites.

"Uh…yeah.  I'll get right on that," Chameleon sighed.  He turned and walked away.  "I love doing your laundry."

He stopped and looked over his shoulder.  Siege and Wraith were still eating.  "I mean, I don't want any help or even a thank you.  I'm not tired, or hungry for that matter.  I ate a few crumbs while preparing your breakfast so I'm full."

Siege and Wraith continued to eat.  Chameleon sighed and started to walk away.  Suddenly Wraith spoke up.

"Chameleon?"

Chameleon spun around.  "Yes?"  He asked hopefully.

"Don't forget the garbage," Wraith said, pointing to the two overstuffed plastic garbage bags in the corner of the kitchen.  

"Oh, yeah," Chameleon sighed.

**********

"So this is my life," Chameleon muttered as he dragged the bags to the incinerator.  "Dimensional Limbo was a Sunday picnic compared to this!"

At that moment the flimsy garbage bags burst wide open, spilling garbage across the floor.  Chameleon groaned and knelt down to pick it up.  As he gathered the orange peels and coffee grounds, he saw a soggy newspaper.

"Argh!  How many times do I have to ask those goons to recycle!  Just because we're going to conquer the planet is no reason to trash the place!"

He picked it up and noticed a headline that read, OPEN MIKE NIGHT AT THE CHUCKLE BUCKET.  Intrigued, he read further.  

**Young comics will have the chance to show their stuff this Thursday night at ****8pm****.  The Chuckle Bucket is where many unknowns first shot to stardom.  Yes, you too can change your life if you're willing to take a chance.  We'll see you there!   **

"Change my life?"  Chameleon said.  "I'd need to get a life first…but if I shoot to stardom, I could buy a life!  I'LL DO IT!"

**Next: Showdown at the Chuckle Bucket**


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday night rolled around, and The Chuckle Bucket was packed.  Chameleon had taken on the form of a human to compete.  He was late getting there, due to another failed confrontation with the Ducks.  As a result, he was 16th to go on and was forced to watch an endless parade of hopefuls take the stage.  Each one was worse than the one before; by the time it was his turn, the audience was bored and itching for blood.

"And now," the nervous host said, "please welcome our next comic…Sheckie McBang!"

The Chameleon walked onto the stage and was greeted by an icy silence.  

"Uh, hello," Chameleon said.  His eyes darted back and forth; not a single friendly face.  If reptiles could sweat, The Chameleon would be drowning by now.

"So, um…who's from out of town?  Anyone from the East Coast?  It's a crazy place I tell ya…they have four seasons: winter, spring, summer and fall…all in the same day!"

The silence was deafening.  In that moment Chameleon forgot his entire routine; he stood frozen in place, frantically trying to think of something to say.  

_C'mon, Chameleon, _he thought.  _There has to be something you do well.  Um…get my butt kicked?  No!  Think, THINK!_

"Hey jerk," a voice from the crowd yelled.  "In case you didn't know, this is a comedy club.  When are you gonna be funny?"

Chameleon snapped out of it.  "Oh, you want funny?  Here's the funny!"  Chameleon morphed his face into that of the heckler.  "Hey, I'm forty years old and I still live at home!  I have no talent so I criticize everyone else when I'm not selling shoes at the mall!"  Chameleon then morphed back into Sheckie.

As he looked out on the sea of stunned faces, he realized he may have made a huge mistake.  He was about to teleport out of there when suddenly they broke into applause and whistles.

Encouraged, Chameleon morphed into one of the waitresses.  "Another drink, sir?  The more you drink, the funnier the jokes!"

The audience howled.

Chameleon spent the next ten minutes doing impressions.  By the time he left the stage the audience was on their feet, cheering.  Backstage the club's owner was waiting to greet the Chameleon with open arms.

"Kid, you were fantastic!  Those impressions were mind boggling!  How on Earth did you do it?"

"Um…trade secret," Chameleon replied.

"Whatever.  Look, I'm not happy with my current in-house host.  How would you like his job?"

"A job?  Me?"  Chameleon gasped.  I don't know…"  It was a dream come true.  But he knew it would mean sneaking around behind Dragaunus's back.  And if the boss ever found out… 

"I'll throw in a year's supply of turtle wax," the owner said.

"Deal!"  The Chameleon squealed.  He and the owner shook hands. 

**********

Over the next few weeks The Chameleon would perform his usual mundane duties during the day, but at night he was Sheckie McBang, resident host at The Chuckle Bucket.  He quickly became Anaheim's top comics, with one sold out show after another.  For The Chameleon, it was like heaven; not only were people paying attention to him, but they admired and respected him!  He didn't think life could get any better until one night after his show, he found a sharp dressed gentleman waiting for him backstage.

"Mr. McBang?  My name is Jack Callister," the man said, extending his hand.

The Chameleon didn't think much of the man's straightforwardness; at that point he was used to people coming up to him like they were best friends.  He made no effort to shake hands; after all, he didn't want to encourage these overenthusiastic fans.  But what the man said next caught Chameleon's attention.

"I own the Orpheus Theatre downtown," the man said.  "I want you to do a one-man show this Friday night!"

"Are you serious?"  The Chameleon gasped.

"Wait, it gets better," Jack continued.  "Some top executives from Comedy Central will be there.  If they like what they see, you could be looking at your own prime-time show!  So are you interest-oof!"

Jack did not get to finish his thought; the Chameleon had grabbed his hand and was shaking it so vigorously that his teeth rattled.

"I'll do it!  Thankyouthankyouthankyou!  Youwon'tbesorryitwillbemybestshowever!"

"Whoa, sport, save it for showtime," Jack cried, wrenching his hand free.  "Just be at The Orpheus Friday at 8.  If the suits like you, you'll be able to write your own ticket."

**********

Days later The Chameleon was still walking on air.  He knew that if he got a TV deal, he would make enough money to kiss his old life goodbye forever.  He could just picture Siege and Wraith grumbling as they washed their own dishes and cooked their own meals, and ducked for cover during one of Dragaunus's temper tantrums.  Yup, they wouldn't have Chameleon to kick around anymore; he'd be too busy throwing lavish parties in his Hollywood Hills mansion, mingling with celebrities like Demi Moore and her boyfriend, what's-his-name.  By the time Friday rolled around he could barely contain his glee, which almost ruined everything…

"What are you smiling about?"  Siege barked that night at dinner.

"Huh?"  The Chameleon said, snapping out of his daydream.  "Um, I…was just thinking about…how we should torture the Ducks the next time we capture them!  I'm thinking boiling tar and…"

"I'm thinking you're lying," Wraith interjected. 

"Yeah," Siege said, narrowing his eyes.  "You've been acting funny all week.  Last night I made you scrub the kitchen floor and you didn't complain one bit!"

"And you've been sleeping much too soundly as of late," Wraith added.  "I haven't been woken up by the sound of your uncontrollable sobbing in days."

"I…just decided that…it was time to stop complaining about my job and become more of a team player," The Chameleon replied.  "When we conquer the planet, humans will be doing all the work, right?  The sooner we rule the world, the sooner I can retire.  And the best way to do that is by doing my part and giving 110%."  He then managed a weak smile.

Though the room was silent for no more than 5 seconds, to The Chameleon it seemed like an eternity.  He knew that the next words Siege or Wraith uttered would decide whether he'd be on his way to fame and fortune…or scrubbing toilets for the rest of his life.

"Chameleon…"  Wraith began.

"Yes?"  Chameleon said, on the verge of fainting.

"If you ever start seeing glowing pink disks let me know.  It seems the Thurdosians have found their way to this dimension and are using their Mindlessly Happy Idiot Ray."

"Uh…sure, no problem," The Chameleon said.  "Well, I gotta go.  That carpet isn't going to vacuum itself!"  He hurried off, but the moment he was safely out of sight he started to skip.  He couldn't help it; after tonight, he would never have to do chores again.

**Next: Going out with a bang**


	3. Chapter 3

Sheckie McBang, a.k.a The Chameleon, stood backstage at the Orpheus Theatre, waiting for the warm-up act to finish.  He was dressed in the freshly pressed tuxedo he had found waiting for him in his large dressing room, along with many bouquets and good luck cards from celebrity well-wishers.  He could definitely get used to that kind of treatment.

"Nervous, Mr. McBang?"  A stage hand asked him.

"Not at all, junior," Chameleon replied.  It was true; he had never been surer of himself in his life.  In fact, he was so confident that he had written a letter of resignation to Dragaunus and put it on the breakfast table right before he left for The Orpheus (in a limo no less)!  And he had worded it in such a way that he could never return to The Raptor, even if he wanted to.

"Would you be nervous if your tuxedo was rigged with a bomb?"  The stage hand asked.

"Um…I guess," Chameleon answered.  "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything," the young man smirked.  "Why don't you take a look in the mirror?"

Curiosity getting the better of him, Chameleon walked over to the makeup table.  He carefully scanned his tux and noticed a small device buried in the Carnation pinned to his lapel.  Leaning closer, he heard a low, steady sound…

Beep…Beep…Beep.

Chameleon had set enough explosives in his life to recognize the sound.  He broke into a cold sweat.

"That's right, Sheckie," the stage hand cackled.  "Your tuxedo is rigged with a bomb.  It was activated when the sound decibel in this theatre hit 60.  And now, if it drops below 60 for more than thirty seconds, you go out with a bang, McBang!"   He broke into hysterical laughter.

The needle on the bomb's counter slipped to 50.  The beeping sped up, indicating that it was about to detonate.  Chameleon ran back towards the stage.  The audience's laughter made the beeping go back to its normal pace.  Legs wobbly with a mixture of relief and fear, The Chameleon turned back to the young man.   

"But…why?"  Chameleon gasped. 

"Don't you recognize me?"  The man said.  "I'm Larry Williams!  I used to work at The Chuckle Bucket until you took my job!  And you have the lamest act!  Impressions are the lowest form of comedy; you're just a hack who got lucky!"

"Really?"  Chameleon snarled, his fear instantly turning to anger.  "Well, I think all of those people out there might disagree with you!"  He reached for the blaster hidden in his cummerbund (no Saurian leaves home without one).

"Oh, and in case you're thinking of doing something stupid, like calling the cops, you should know that I have a remote control."  The man pulled a device out of his pocket.  "Try anything funny and I'll blow you to bits!"  

Before The Chameleon could respond the audience broke into applause.  Moments later the opening comic glided past him.

"Break a leg," the comic said, patting Chameleon's shoulder as he headed to the dressing rooms.

"Indeed," Larry smirked.  "Here's the deal.  You keep 'em laughing for one hour, and I'll deactivate the bomb.  If you bomb, then…well, you REALLY bomb!"  He laughed again.  

The Chameleon ran out onto the stage to the sound of thunderous applause; many people stood up.  For a moment Chameleon felt relieved.  The audience knew him and loved him.  This would be easy.

"Thank you, thank you people!"   Chameleon said.  He morphed into Ed Sullivan.  "Are you ready for the really big show?"  The audience applauded louder.  Chameleon closed his eyes and soaked up the admiration.  After he finished wowing the audience he would make laughing boy eat his words…with a side order of Saurian whupass!

"Glad you all came out tonight.  Who doesn't enjoy a night at the theater?"  He morphed into Abe Lincoln. "I don't, but I'll give it a shot!"

The audience laughed.  Chameleon dove into his act, and the audience continued to respond with a steady stream of laughter.  Finally he came to the end of his routine.

"Thankyouverymuchgoodnight!"  He cried, flashing a double victory sign.  The audience responded with thunderous applause; many stood up.  He shot a triumphant look at Larry, who had been watching the entire performance offstage.  But the young man simply smirked and tapped the face of his wristwatch.  Chameleon glanced at his own watch and froze.  He still had ten minutes left, and he was out of material.

Thinking quickly, he yelled, "Do you want some more?"  The audience clapped louder.  Chameleon jumped around like a cheerleader, pumping his fist and yelling along.  Soon, though, the audience tired and the sound level began to drop off.  Chameleon checked his watch again.  Six minutes left.  He continued to whoop and holler, but quickly realized that if he wanted them to make lots of noise, he'd have to make them laugh.

Suddenly the beeping began to speed up; the bomb's decibel meter had dropped below 60.  Chameleon felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"HOW ABOUT THOSE LAKERS!?"  He cried.  "WHO HERE IS A LAKER'S FAN!?"

Maybe three people clapped.  _I had to say Lakers_, Chameleon thought glumly.

BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep

"Why are they called the Lakers?  We live in a desert!" 

BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep

"And let's face it, 'Lakers' is such a wimpy name!  A sports team should inspire fear!"

BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep

"WHY NOT CALL THEM THE RHINOS OR THE LEOPARDS OR THE EX-WIVES OR…"

BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep

"OR…OR…OR HIT THE DECK!"

Chameleon tore off his jacket and threw it at Larry.  He then dove into the orchestra pit and covered his head, bracing himself for the big boom.  Five seconds ticked by, then ten.  Chameleon raised his head slightly; he was sure it had been thirty seconds.  What was going on?

"Sheckie McBang?"  A voice said.  Chameleon looked up and saw a young man towering above him, offering him his hand.  The Chameleon grabbed it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.  

"That was some show, Sheckie," the young man continued.  "I'm Ashton Kutcher, and you've been PUNK'D!"

The audience went wild.  Chameleon stared blankly at the sea of faces laughing at him.  A wide grin spread slowly across his face.

"Hey, good joke, Ashton.  And I know jokes.  Would you like to hear one now?"

"Sure, buddy," Ashton grinned.

The Chameleon pulled out his blaster and fired.  The shot grazed Ashton's head and hit the far wall near the balcony.  Chameleon aimed at Ashton again, who turned and run up the aisle.  A second shot hit him directly in the rear end; he yelped in pain and fell, where he was promptly trampled by terrified audience members making a mad dash for the exit.  Chameleon fired again and again, laughing maniacally as theatre debris rained down around him.

**********

Hours later the Chameleon, back in his own form, returned to the Raptor.  He cursed himself for not bringing his teleporter with him.  He'd had to travel thirty blocks to get home; no easy task due to the uproar he'd caused.   

The aftermath of Chameleon's outburst had been broadcast on every TV news station in round-the-clock coverage.  Dozens of cops were scouring the city looking for Sheckie.  Angry mobs had gathered and were burning Sheckie CDs and tee shirts.  From his hospital bed Ashton Kutcher announced the cancellation of Punk'd.  Needless to say, Sheckie McBang was gone for good.

"Who needs 'em anyway," Chameleon muttered, flopping onto his bed.  He was sick of performing for them like a trained monkey anyway; it was beneath a mighty Saurian like himself.  Those humans should be bowing to him!  And they will someday, he silently vowed.  

Just then the clock on his nightstand went off.  It was six o'clock in the morning.  Chameleon jumped out of bed and jogged down the hall.  He made breakfast in record time and brought it to the breakfast room.  But as he entered the room he was surprised to see that Dragaunus was already there, along with Siege and Wraith. 

"Hi boss," he said warily.  "You're up early today."  His eyes darted back and forth until he spotted a piece of paper clutched in Dragaunus's hand.  His letter.  The one he had completely forgotten about.

"Real funny comments about my weight and brains," Siege snarled.

"And quite an interesting suggestion about where to place my staff," Wraith remarked.

"And your comments about my mother…" Dragaunus growled.

"Aw c'mon, I was just kidding," Chameleon replied nervously, backing away as the three figures advanced on him.  "Can't you take a joke guys? Guys?"

THE END 


End file.
